


after hours

by lover_of_queens



Category: Fate: The Winx Saga (TV)
Genre: F/F, Farah Big Dick Energy Dowling, Feelings, but also soft and vulnerable Farah, so many feeings, this got a lot softer than i anticipated and i blame valentine's day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_queens/pseuds/lover_of_queens
Summary: You're grading papers one night and Farah drops by for a visit, unannounced. It's not long before you can't keep your hands off of each other, but it soon turns into something much more than either of you could have realized."But before you can feel the weight of your disappointment, there’s a soft knock at your door. Quiet enough that you can only barely hear it above the noise of the music. Or your own pounding heart.You look up, expecting a student who has gotten lost in the labyrinth of Alfea and is hopelessly looking for directions to the party they’re not supposed to be having. But when you catch sight of the woman in the doorway, your breath hitches. And the look in her eyes makes you shift against the dark oak of your chair.Farah."
Relationships: Farah Dowling/Female!Reader, Farah Dowling/Original Female Character(s), Farah Dowling/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	after hours

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I started watching this show it has been impossible for me to get Farah Dowling out of my head. This is the result of that and this was so fun and wonderful to write so I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> A Quick Content Note: This work is intended for readers over the age of 18. Also, I make several references to this over the course of the fic but I also want to be explicitly clear that the reader character is an adult. Remember y'all, consent isn't just sexy, it's a requirement.

You shuffle the papers around on your desk, counting how many you have left to grade before you can reasonably call it a night. For a school of magic, you had been surprised to learn how much traditionally academic work was required at Alfea. You were less surprised to learn that students learning magic spent much less time on their written assignments. And you couldn’t blame them – hell you had been just like them a couple of years ago, just at a different school.  At the same time, if you had to read one more paper that had a sleep spell charmed into its ink you were going to tender your resignation; effective immediately. The papers were boring enough without adding sleep magic to the mix.

Something to speak to Farah about.  _ Headmistress Dowling _ , you remind yourself. You don’t have the seniority of staff to refer to her by her first name yet, at least in the company of the other teachers at the school. And you really don’t want to slip up. 

Whatever has been going on between the two of you over the past couple of weeks had taken you both by surprise, and you both agreed it was best that it was kept quiet. Keep personal lives personal. Which, as you have found out, is much more difficult when you have the eyes of hundreds of students on you looking for guidance. 

You scribble a D absentmindedly, big and bold and red. At least you thought it was red, the classroom you had boarded yourself in to grade had gotten dark, and the ink looked black to your eyes. The sun had departed from its place in the sky hours ago, and a look out of a nearby window shows a heavy fog starting to roll in. You shiver despite yourself; the news of the re-emergence of the burned ones had all the staff on edge. Following an emergency meeting after a body had been found behind the barrier, it had been agreed upon to keep the news from the student population. For now. There was too much that was still unknown, and there was unanimous agreement that there was no need to create unnecessary panic.

And it seems to be working. There certainly isn’t any panicking from the student body. The annual back to classes party is in full effect; you’re on the other side of campus and somehow the music still manages to reach your ears. And even with the mist clouding the air, you can see strobe lights of every colour and hue cast into the sky. Fairy magic. Nothing else could pierce through that thick of a fog.

The combination of the music and the lights is giving you a headache. An ache that stretches from your temples to the nape of your neck. Or maybe the party isn’t the reason for the headache at all and you’re just realizing how much you miss not having the responsibilities you have now. 

These past couple of weeks it had felt like there was an endless burden on your shoulders. It weighed you down everywhere you went and it was getting harder and harder to keep up the facade that everything was fine. 

And you had never even personally dealt with a burned one, so you can’t begin to imagine how Farah must be feeling. To think you were free of the past and have it come rushing back at you is a terrifying thing enough; much worse when the past has teeth and claws and a hunger for blood. 

Farah’s name running through your mind makes your heart twinge and you can’t help but wish she was sitting opposite to you. Her warm gaze on you as the two of you sit in comfortable silence.

The silence of contented lovers.

You reach for your phone to call her, and then decide against it, setting it back down against the desk. You would hate to seem clingy, this thing that exists between you two feels much too fragile. And you’re terrified to break it. 

Suddenly, your phone lights up, casting light into the dim room. And you’re embarrassed at how quickly you look at the screen to check who the notification is from.

It isn’t Farah.

You let out a shaky breath that shudders throughout your whole body. Nobody has ever had this effect on you before. You can’t stand it. You also can’t get enough of it. But before you can feel the weight of your disappointment, there’s a soft knock at your door. Quiet enough that you can only barely hear it above the noise of the music. Or your own pounding heart.

You look up, expecting a student who has gotten lost in the labyrinth of Alfea and is hopelessly looking for directions to the party they’re not supposed to be having. But when you catch sight of the woman in the doorway, your breath hitches. And the look in her eyes makes you shift against the dark oak of your chair.

_ Farah _ .

She tilts her head to the side ever so slightly when your eyes meet hers. She doesn’t smile, but that’s fine; her eyes tell you everything you could ever need to know. And you wonder how in only a few short weeks you’ve come to know this woman better than the lines that dart across your palm. Better than the magic that dwelt within your very being.

“Headmistress Dowling,” you acknowledge, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the slight shake in your words. 

“It’s just us,” she says, walking over towards you like there is nothing else in the world she would rather be doing. “No formalities necessary.” With that one end of her lip quirks up, despite herself. And you already know the memory that flashed through her mind.

_ She loved it when you moaned out her title as her head was buried between your thighs. Your fingers curled into her hair as she drew release after release out of you. _

Farah walks over to your side of the desk and leans against the wood, pulling you out of the memory. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips – even if she wasn’t a mind fairy, your thoughts are written all over your face. She angles her body ever so slightly to you, the slit of her dress riding up to expose the creamy flesh of her thigh. Your eyes flick to the still-open door of the classroom and you resist the urge to let your hands explore what has been offered up to you on a silver platter.

Farah is a generous lover. But she is also a  _ tease _ .

“I texted you earlier,” Farah says, casting her gaze over the papers splayed across your desk. And you can’t help but think she’s picturing something very different. “The other teachers and I were engaging in our own annual tradition. I had hoped you would join us.”

That explains the faint smell of bourbon on her breath. Your favourite. And right now there is nothing more you want to do than surge up and capture Farah’s lips with your own, taste the leftover alcohol on her tongue. But the door is still open, and you can’t help but wonder what game she is playing.

“I was grading papers,” you say, by way of an answer. Your voice is tight with want and you can’t keep your eyes off her exposed skin. “I only just turned my phone back on. I’m sorry to have missed it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Farah whispers back, leaning forward so she can tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You blush in the darkened room. “I’ll never complain about having you all to myself.”

Her eyes glow blue and the door slams shut, deadbolt sliding into place. Before you can even register what has happened, she reaches forward and grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you up and into her. Her lips crash into yours with a hunger the poets could never find words to describe, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss as her hands slip under the hem of your shirt and make a home against the bare expanse of skin beneath.

In a sudden whirl, she has you pressed up against the desk and you adjust so you’re sitting on it; the papers underneath quickly swept to the side. Your legs come up quickly and encircle her body, pulling her into you.

Farah releases your lips and you whimper at the sudden loss, not missing the way she chuckles when she realizes just how  _ needy _ you are. But the loss doesn’t last long and soon she is pressing kisses up your jawline.

“Is this okay?” Farah whispers softly, her breath ghosting over your ear. The sudden tenderness of her words goes straight to your heart.

She pulls back from you so she can look in your eyes – the want is still there, the need to splay you out over your desk and absolutely ravish you, but there’s a layer of concern as well. You’re an adult, have been for some time now, but Farah is still ever conscious of the age gap between you two. The power she has as Headmistress over her staff. And she never wants to force you into anything that you aren’t comfortable with.

You reach up to cup her face gently, your thumb stroking her cheek. “Farah, I’m fine.” Your words are soft, but firm so she has no room to doubt your consent. “I want this. I want you.”

Farah’s mouth opens ever so slightly to respond, but there are no words that her eyes cannot already tell you. And she captures you in a kiss once more, her teeth grazing against your bottom lip, flooding your body with adrenaline.

Determined to not let Farah have all the fun, your fingers seek out the zipper at the back of her dress and pull it down as far as you can in your current position. You’re sure to let your fingers brush against the bare skin of her back as you do so, and Farah arches into your touch almost immediately. A needy whimper falling from her lips. And you realize you’re not the only one who needs this.

Your legs release from around her body and she turns to back you so that you can finish unwrapping your present. You nudge the zipper down slowly, goosebumps popping up on Farah’s skin as it's exposed to the cool air. Once you are finished, Farah steps out of the dress and turns to face you once more.

Your eyes rake over her figure, taking in the matching dark green underwear set adorning her body and something within you heats up as you realize she chose this for  _ you _ . The moonlight parts through the clouds and casts its light through the nearby window, illuminating Farah’s body in a silvery glow. It looks as though there are specks of stardust dancing across her skin and your breath gets caught in your throat. This is the kind of beauty that wars were fought over, that blood was spilled over. And it is all yours.

Farah looks at you and you can see the cracks in the Headmistress facade as her eyes flick to and from your face. She’s put on this show for you, and she wants you to enjoy it. You pull your own shirt off and slip out of your pants so you’re in a similar state of nakedness, before getting to your knees.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of Farah’s panties, never breaking eye contact. You press a kiss against the skin just underneath her belly button. She’s desperately trying but she just can’t keep her breathing quiet and it feels like it’s the first time all over again. “Farah.” You whisper her name as though it is divine because if it isn’t then it's something close. “I think you were carved from the same cloth as the gods.”

She is shaking, with emotion, with want, with  _ need _ . You pull her panties down ever so slowly, the smell of her arousal hitting you almost immediately. The slick on her thighs shining in the light of the moon. Once the scrap of fabric is on the floor you give her the opportunity to step out of it, before bringing both of your hands up to cup the soft skin of her ass. Your nails dig into her skin ever so slightly, marking her as  _ yours _ . Your tongue darts out for that first swipe against her wet heat and the way Farah moans your name has you convinced you’re in love.

* * *

By the time you’re finished with each other, the sky is starting to turn from inky black to grey, and soon the sun will make its ascent once more. The two of you had moved from the classroom to Farah’s room eventually, preferring a soft mattress after a round or two. You’re entangled in Farah, limbs crossed over limbs until you’re not sure where you end, and she begins. You’d be happy to never move again.

Farah’s looking at you again – not that she ever stopped. Her fingers trace patterns on the bare skin of your back, a kaleidoscope of emotions you can’t name flashes through your mind at her touch. You are undone. 

“Do you even have any idea of just how beautiful you are?” she asks, breaking the silence. Her fingers moving from your back to push the hair from your face. Her touch is so gentle. You wonder if you should remind her that you’re not breakable.

You snuggle in closer to her. “You may have mentioned it a few times.” Your voice is light, and Farah offers you a smile before her face turns serious once more.

“I-” she starts, before cutting herself off. You blink slowly, watching the gears turn in her mind. You want her to finish, but you won’t force the words from her mouth. You let your head rest against her chest and she presses a kiss to the top of your head. Her fingers comb through your hair and you blink the wet from your eyes. 

Now that she doesn’t have to look you in the eyes it's easier. 

“I’m terrified of losing you,” Farah whispers. You can feel the way her body shakes with the admission. Sometimes feelings are easier to express indirectly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s the burned ones that I’m worried about. That body we found I-”. She cuts herself off again, but you understand her meaning well enough. She can’t bear the thought of something like that happening to you. 

You push yourself up onto your elbow so that you can look at her. “Farah Dowling, I would split the world in two for you. I would go to war for you if you’d only ask. There is not a being alive with the power it would take to rip me from you.”

You both know it is a lie; the latter part of the sentence anyway. But it is a comforting one while you are both safe in this room, wrapped up in each other. It will make it easier to handle the morning and what it may bring.

Farah’s hand cups your face as she pulls you in for one last kiss, and then you hold each other until the sun rises. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it :) I've never actually written a x reader fanfic before so this was definitely new territory to me, but it was super fun! If you liked it let me know because I'm definitely considering making a much longer Farah x reader series. 
> 
> And as always, feel free to come and say hi over on my Tumblr @lover-of-queens


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